


Curiosity Killed the Cat

by Birdfluff



Series: I'll Meet You At The Old Motel [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdfluff/pseuds/Birdfluff
Summary: RED Scout becomes more interested in the BLU Medic than he should be to even risk his life to be at his side.





	Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a while back, possibly a year ago, I refound it recently and touched it up a bit. I think it's good enough to post, enjoy!

“Today just ain't your day, huh, doc?” 

The RED Scout eyed at the fatigued BLU Medic with a sort of mix between malice and longing, as he kept the dead body of the BLU Soldier he was pocketing between them to not risk a sneak attack. The doctor was relatively injured with his temple sporting a recent cut from a stray bullet. His once pristine clothes were now coated with dirt, blood, and mud stains. Scout had no idea how he could have survived for this long without getting respawned again for the hundredth time today. In his mind, he thought it suited him. It gave the doctor a more human look by the way he breathed so deeply, the way his beautiful broad shoulders sagged. Those gorgeous yet stern eyes were planted on his person, it sparked an odd feeling in his gut.  
“Keep hiding behind your boyfriends, running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, it's kinda embarrassing to watch.”

Blood streamed down his cheek. The BLU Medic caught his breath, gripping at his bonesaw tightly. He waited for his golden opportunity. If the batter tried to monologue, he could catch him off guard and cut a nice hole through his chest. However, the runner was keeping a keen eye on him with his pistol in his left hand and his bat in his right.

“It was cute the way you were trying to shoot at me though, looks like you ran out of those needles. That Medi thing looks heavy on you too.”

For a brief moment, the doctor thought his eyes were deceiving him. He watched the pistol and scattergun fall from the Bostonian and they clattered softly against the dusty ground. The runner rolled his neck and readied his melee weapon with a smile. He let the situation sink in before speaking again, just one more moment to revel in the fact that his plan was in motion. Don't fuck it up. 

“Let's make it fair. And you can take that off if you want... What?”

The RED Scout glared at the field medic, who seemed to be greatly amused by his actions, since he was smirking, “Are you ill?”

The runner frowned, clearly offended, “What's wrong with giving you a chance? You're being dominated by half my team today. Hell, I'm surprised you're still alive right now. I should be asking you that question.”

“You pity me?”

The batter's eyes searched around the wooden walls and floor covered in straw to avoid the German's gaze, “I don't. I just feel kind of...”

What good would it do to tell the doctor how he felt? As if he would actually reciprocate. As if he could be that curious, then again the man was unreadable.  
It wasn't fascination, he felt, maybe it was just pining? The doctor on his team was a heartless jackass. Scout just wanted to experiment. He wanted to see if there was a difference. He was curious to know if there was a chance. The runner collected himself and glared at the doctor. Inwardly, he was astonished that he didn't take that chance to cut him open. “Look, do you want me to just shoot you? Or we could do a fair fight, a mono o mono and you can kill me if you're lucky.”

He rolled his beautiful eyes, “Mano a mano, dummkopf.”

“Whatever.”

His eyebrow quirked as he stretched his shoulders. Briefly, the RED Scout stared at him enthralled as he watched the fabric cling to his forearms. Holy shit, he was stacked. His mind drifted to think how nice they would feel wrapped around him. “Remind me, why you are doing this again?”

His face flushed after realizing he had been gawking at the German. Frantically, he brushed it off, keeping his voice steady, “Feelin' generous today, you should be thankful.”

It was interesting to see the enemy Scout taking pity on him, to even give him a fighting chance instead of mercilessly shooting like usual. He knew he was never going to get a proper answer from him about why. He decided to humor him a little as he shrugged off his Medipack carefully, “I accept.”

He noticed as he removed the weight off his shoulders that the Scout observed with his mouth ajar. He noted that his chest stopped moving for a second before resuming in breathing. How adorably puzzling.

The Bostonian swallowed down any saliva left in his mouth, “Oh, yeah? Alright, doc, but I won't go easy on y—JESUS!”

The RED Scout had not accounted for how fast the German could be without all that weight on his back. Arthritis must have not caught up to him yet. He managed to jump out of the way of the saw and backpedal to have some distance but the BLU Medic was closing in with a venomous sneer on his face. It was clear by now that the batter had made a huge mistake. There was no possible way he could complete his goal in mind. Quickly, he ducked under the thrashing bonesaw and decided to give himself the upper hand. He slamed his bat into the doctor's kneecaps as he slipped away.

The BLU Medic staggered to continue standing, his teeth gritted together to fight back a shrill scream. He held onto the wall with his left hand while his armed hand pointed at the runner to keep his distance until he composed himself. His glasses laid crooked on the bridge of his nose. Fuck, that was a nice look for him. Medic's gaze shot over to him, fuming anger behind them. The Bostonian felt his blood run cold.

“That... was an unfair blow.” Christ, his tone became toxic to the ears.

“Instinct.” The Red Scout gave him a guilty slanted smile, biting his lower lip to suppress his urge to run. He stepped forward and knocked the bonesaw out of his hand with his bat. He watched the saw skid over to the batter's left nearby the wall, the right of his target.

If the agonizing pain wasn't coursing throughout the field medic's body and if he wasn't just struggling to keep himself on his feet, the boy would be dead. It would be such a swift flawless move, stoop down, grab it and thrust, but he knew the boy probably accounted for it. That's why he broke his wrist, so it could be more of a hassle to pick the bonesaw up. When was the boy this clever and for what cause?

His eyes shot back to the Bostonian, glowering, “You said this would be fair.”

“Yea, I did say that. I didn't lie, if that's what you're thinking, doc, I'm not much of an asshole as you think I am. It honestly was going to be, but I, uh, thought you'd do somethin' different. You caught me by surprise.” The batter laughed nervously. He was only a few feet away from the BLU now. He was just standing there with his bat in his hands while the doctor breathed fitfully through those appealing lips. The German let his back hit the wall as his legs finally gave out.He physically bit back a howl of pain as he glared up at the RED.

He was perfect. This was perfect. He was sitting there, just sitting there, exposed, vulnerable, waiting. It set the runner's heart racing by the fact that his plan worked. He hoped he wasn't visibly shaking from the excitement.  
The doctor's words cut through the air harshly, “What are you waiting for? Kill me.”

He let his bat fall from his hand, astonishing the BLU Medic, “Not just yet, doc. I got something I have to do first.”

The RED Scout took one more step, in between the field medic's legs, and knelt down. With a bit of hesitation, he cupped his face into his hands. His skin was pleasantly soft compared to his calloused hands. He felt his firm kissable jawbone that curved up at a close right angle to his ears. His cheeks had grown warm to the touch. Was he blushing or was his face warm from the burning fury for him? His eyes screamed that death was coming the Bostonian's way soon as the German observed his every move, intrigued with what the runner was up to. After eventually swallowing his pride, he leaned forward. His lips felt so warm and soft and had a mild taste of blood. It wasn't long until his mind blanked and his body continued as if on auto pilot.

… This was what he wanted? It was a rather intricate way of going about it yet oddly clever for the RED batter's standards. Fighting and taking out certain limbs, it's like he had rehearsed this or hoped to expect it. Medic wondered what other ways the boy would try to gain this much time with him. Pushing the subject aside, the field medic contemplated a plan to escape this dilemma until he found the runner to be distracting. He thought this was going to a swift kiss but the Bostonian had his body and lips pressed firmly against him now as his fingers stroked his neck. He was completely rapt up in him.

To humor him, he decided to reciprocate. Catching the boy off guard, he grabbed and sucked on the batter's bottom lip. Chills ran down Scout's spine and he retaliated by putting his arms around his neck. The doctor proceeded to then lick at his lips until the runner opened his mouth. The Bostonian ended up melting into him, getting as close as he possibly could. His quiet moans and the occasional slight vibration of his body, became endearing to the doctor. In fact, even though it was for a short time, he let his uninjured hand stroke his side, earning him a drawn out groan and rather forceful push from his mouth.

He was nothing like the RED Medic not by a long shot.

The BLU Medic fought back the temptation to shut his eyes and press on, give him a turn to explore his mouth, but he had a team losing and he was badly injured. This was wasting enough of his time. He eyed at his bonesaw to his right and willed his numb swollen hand slowly over the handle. His fingers managed to grab it. Pain pulsed violently once more that the doctor bit into the runner's lip rather harshly that blood was in the mix of their kiss. Thankfully for him, the batter only moaned breathlessly. He had to be quick and smart about how he should move his broken wrist, after all he had a highly distracted RED Scout on him. There was room between himself and the wall, he could shimmy the blade through. Cautiously, he decided to attempt it and if that couldn't work his next attempt was to push the Scout off, grab his bat, and aim for the head—  
Oh no, he was playing with his hair now, twirling it, stroking it. It felt wonderful. The German's eyes rolled back and he found himself thanking him by licking his cut open lip and running his hand under his shirt. Abruptly, the boy drew away only a few centimeters from his lips, heaving heavy shaking breathes. His eyes were closed tight, cluching at the front of the doctor's coat.

Now that he felt enjoyment from the batter's lips and his adorable noises, or maybe it was just him in general, the BLU Medic couldn't tell; he wasn't sure if had enough from him yet. Rubbing against his sides once more and teasing his lips with his tongue, rejuvenated the RED batter to push hard against his lips to have a short moan escape from the doctor. It was enough for the Scout to prod at his lips with his tongue to which the field medic absentmindedly obeyed his wish.

This was making his murder attempt difficult.

Somehow, he managed the attempt with his wounded hand that now had become completely ineffective as it lay limply on the ground.

Finally, his bonesaw was in his unscathed hand. He raised it above the Bostonian with the blade pointed to his back. There was a small pang of guilt that hit his chest when his eyes traveled back to the intoxicated boy, who was sidetracking him again with his curious tongue. The way it moved enticed him, perhaps a little too much, as the runner pet his hair. He couldn't believe that he found himself to be moaning at his touch that, even for a few blissful seconds closed his eyes. This was utterly unprofessional he thought as his tongue and Scout's relentlessly tangled in each other. He let himself and his own enemy continue this far with their mouth moving in perfect unison. The doctor almost gave up and released his bonesaw. It felt so wonderful, the way the batter tried to keep their bodies from separating. He felt him adjusting his body so that his legs wrapped around his waist just so he could press further into him. The runner gripped at the back of his coat, utterly enveloped in his smell, his taste. He clung onto him, stroked and pulled on his hair as if his life depended on it, if only he could physically reciprocate...  
However, that feeling evaporated instantly when he heard the Administrator in his ears, announcing that there was a minute left in the battle. He plunged the blade into Scout's back. His eyes shot open and he stared bewildred at the field medic that smiled with malice and fatigue. No words were exchanged.

He ripped his saw out of his body and proceeded to push the boy off of him.

Severe pain pounded at his knees as he stood up. He wiped the remains of spit and blood off his lips. Slowly, he stalked towards his Medipack and, with some difficulty, placed it back onto his shoulders. He could feel the fumes working on healing him already. He had nerves back in his hand again and his knees weren't killing him. Before he walked back to the warzone, he gazed down at the corpse of the RED Scout with his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.

He had to wonder what the point of that charade was, even though it proved to be entirely intoxicating. If he wasn't injured, his mind drifted to rather carnal thoughts and desires.

The BLU Medic shook his head to push away his unprofessional thoughts, “I do hope you're not obsessed with me. That would entirely inconvenient for the both of us.”

The RED Scout was pissed when he respawned. They were having a moment, or so he thought. His lips were so soft to touch that every initial thought was thrown out the window to just focus on the feeling. Then he had to comply, didn't he? He was obviously enjoying it. He got him to moan and even tremble at his touch, that had to mean something, right? He couldn't be exactly like the RED Medic, he couldn't. Taking advantage and slicing him like that, that... that.

Unable to finish his thought, he grabbed his scattergun and bolted out the door. He'd show him. That Medic was going to become a walking corpse.

The BLU Medic had noticed the RED Scout's sudden aggression towards him, but it had been a month since the little incident. Anyone could have let it go by then, but this was Scout, the RED Scout. He was not going to calm down until he brutally killed his target. Medic only seemed to piss him off more by using his teammates as shields whenever he came running at full speed. Luckily for the BLU doctor, the batter cannot think straight under anger, so he continuously ran into bullet after bullet.

Until, it was finally his chance, he took out a nearby BLU Pyro and caught the doctor by his end coat as he tried to escape upstairs. “Oh-ho-ho, no you don't, you fucker.”

The BLU Medic stared at him in bewilderment, wielding his Medigun. His eyes narrowed. “If you keep that hand there, I will not hesitate to chop it off.”

“I've been fucking waiting for this. You're staying here where I can see you.” He tugged at his coat, forcing back down the few steps before letting go. Amazingly, the field medic complied and stood still.

“Did I do something wrong?” He inquired, slowly.

For a moment, Scout froze. Did he forget?! The grip on his bat tightened, “Fuck yea, you did you little ffffuck! You've been keeping me up all night!”

The German gazed at him through his glasses, eyebrows raised, “... I have?”

“Yeah, you have. With that fucking act you pulled! You fucking stabbed me, I thought we were having a moment there!”

A frown tugged at his lips. Briefly, the field medic looked up the stairs and towards the door to see bullets spraying off the frame. He was needed in this battle they were pushing hard. Scout knew this and from the German's point of view, the boy didn't care.

“Do you have any fucking idea how pissed off I am about that? Do you have any idea how fucking... soft your lips are? Did you just throw away the fact that... we did that?”

The world felt like it had paused to let them have such an intriguing blissful moment that the doctor hated to admit that he reveled in. It was unprofessional, unorthodox, and least of all they wore different colored shirts.

He released a long sigh, “Herr Scout, you... you do know we are on opposite sides?”

“I fucking know that, Duetsch-bag!”

“Why can't you accept that then? The Voice has eyes everywhere, as if we could actually keep this a secret.” Medic vainly attempted some sense into the furious batter.

“Why can't you accept that you're so fucking hot?!” Immediately, his face turned into the color of his shirt. It was hard for him to swallow or even look at him in the eye anymore. Why did he say that? Why couldn't he think? He frantically fidgeted in his spot, “y...yo.....you YOU didn't fucking hear that alright! That I didn't I mean you... shit, fuck.”

The air held still between them, until the BLU doctor finally spoke, “Why are you so infatuated with me?”

“I'm not infatuated with you! I... I was just... I wanted to know! I wanted to know how similar you were to.. to, you know, my doc.”

His stunned disappointed countenance made the RED Scout want to punch himself in the gut for even answering. “And that's what you deduced to doing?”

“W-well I-I-I...”

“Are you confused?”

“No!! I know what I like.”

Medic laughed mirthlessly, catching the batter off guard, “I am so sorry, ahaha, you have terrible taste in men.”

“Does it fucking matter?”

“Does it?”

“Why are you turning this onto me?! You... yo—Fuck you! I want an apology!”

“And why do you think you'll get one from me?”

“You kissed back. You moaned. You liked it. You didn't... kill me at first. If I did that to my doc, I wouldn't be here. It was... fffreaking perfect.” He tore his mind from recalling how wonderful that kiss was, biting into his bottom lip. “Did you actually like it? Cause... you know, if you did then... I don't know, like hang out or something?”

Momentarily, guilt shown on his features before transforming into solemn, rather sadistic expression. The batter finally noticed the bone saw in his hand. Before he could react, he found himself at the end of the blade with his back pressed against the brick wall. The Medic's hand gripped tightly at the front of his shirt. Their faces only inches apart.

“Please... don't.” Scout was going to kick his own ass later for sounding so pathetic. He found it hard to look at the doctor straight in the eye, especially when he heard his deep throat laugh that sent an almost familiar feeling down to his loins. He watched the field medic release his weapon from his hand and heard it clatter loudly against the stone flooring.  
Their foreheads were touching, it finally occurred to him. This BLU Medic was entirely invading his personal space, staring into his soul, and breathing his air and the RED Scout couldn't find in himself to push him away even if he wanted to. Their lips must be more than a centimeter apart. Oh god, he could smell him. He smelled like blood and Pepto-Bizmal with cinnamon mixed in, just like last time.

He gazed at the Bostonian through half lidded eyes. His gloved fingers gently brushed through his hair and down to his neck. The runner had to suppress an embarrassing whimper as he squirmed.

“What are you doin'...?”

“I just thought it interesting.” The batter couldn't swallow a noise fast enough from the sound of how low and seductive his tone became. This made the Medic smile. “How closing enough spacing between two individuals can create so much tension and wilt away any preceding thoughts to just... focus on the one in front of you. Maybe their eyes? Or lips” Was he teasing at the close distance between their mouths? He could just barely feel them. They were still so soft compared to his chapped lips. “Focusing on the simple stroke of a hand, to feel it travel down one's body,” as he spoke, Scout felt the hands that was once clutched onto the front of his shirt, now slowly traversed to his waist and stroked at his hips. He couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering back. A chill ran up his spine as his breathing hiccuped.  
The BLU Medic seemed content with his response, as he teased his lips with a swift kiss, “it envelops a person with pleasure and intrigue, does it not?”

His vocal cords managed to be useful, “Is...is this your weird way of saying yes..?”

“Mm, possibly.” He felt his lips brush on his again only for a moment before his head moved to his neck. His warm breath tickled his sensitive skin. Scout was confused to what exactly he was doing. Soon, his soft wonderful lips pressed against his throat and that puzzlement melted away instantaneously as so did he. His tongue and teeth at times touched his skin as well, it was so weird and wet and... he quickly got used to as he craned his head to the side as quiet noises escaped from him. The body next to his was so warm and rejuvenating, although that might just be the Medipack's fumes. The surrounding area seemed to fade away from him while his brain could only concentrate on the doctor's lips pushing, nibbling, and licking his sensitive neck. Medic was practically hold him up by this point.

When he pulled away, the Red Scout fell into him, whimpering pathetically. He held onto him by his forearms. He let the batter rest his head on his shoulder to catch his breath.

While this was adorably amusing, he could hear the cart entering the building above them. BLUs and REDs will be down here soon. “I'm afraid I do have to cut this short.”

The Bostonian shot up, fear in his eyes and a hand on his chest, “Don't.”

He paused, what was he getting himself into, “I won't, but you do need to go.”

“... Fine, one last thing though, and I'll make it quick.” Swiftly, he stepped into him with his hands traveling into his hair. Without hesitation, the field medic reciprocated as he embraced the scrawny boy. It felt like a minute had gone by between them when it was only a couple of seconds. It was wonderful to feel his lips like this again.

The batter gave the German his lopsided smile before peeling himself from his body, “Thanks for the good luck kiss, doc. What do you say about a little dinner date? I know a good place and when we're all done I'll make sure I have you up against the wall or in bed. Whichever.”

With a wink, the Bostonian scamper up the stairs, his heart seemingly skipped after him. Shaking his head, the doctor picked up his bonesaw. This was incredibly unprofessional, yet he didn't mind at all.

“I've finally lost it,” he muttered with a smile and a short laugh.


End file.
